


Christmas Wish

by clippedwingsandshotguns



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: HEY HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 08:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13003971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clippedwingsandshotguns/pseuds/clippedwingsandshotguns
Summary: Davey Jacob and Spot Conlon spend time together and exchange gifts for Christmas, sort of.





	Christmas Wish

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY 18TH BIRTHDAY SCOUT!!! idk what you can do once you turn 18 but have fun doing That!!!!!!!!! I hope you have a good birthday and an even better year, you ANGEL <333

The streets of Manhattan settled into a state of relative peace, after both the trolley and the newsboy strikes had ended. Davey and Les had remained newsies for a couple more months, before their father’s leg healed enough for him to be employed elsewhere in construction. Even then, Davey sold with Jack in the evenings, or on weekends where he had a bit less readings to do for the following week, or just a slightly smaller workload from school. Being a newsie, where Jack was concerned, included trips to Brooklyn every couple of weeks, just to check in with Spot. Despite both their tough acts, the two leaders had gotten along fairly well since the strike ended, and Davey had gotten to know Spot a little bit better as well.

Well, to say that Davey had gotten to know Spot would be putting it lightly. They had shared a few moments together, when Jack had to attend to a younger newsie or something or other, and Davey had found himself wandering the streets of Brooklyn in search of a familiar face and a bit of companionship. Spot wasn’t much of a talker. Unlike Jack, he didn’t find the need to fill silences with conversation about what happened last week, or that conversation with Race. Spot liked the silence, and while Davey was comforted that Jack had always filled any awkward silences for him, there wasn’t even the need for it with Spot. They spoke when they wanted to, and it was a pleasant change of pace from the rowdy boys at the lodging house, or the constant flow of words that Les had to offer. But the comfortable relationship they had with quiet moments didn’t mean that they never talked. It only meant that their conversations were exactly what they wanted it to be. Yet somehow, despite his usual anxieties and reservations, Davey never felt as if his words were unwelcome. It seemed as though the only conversation that Spot didn’t appreciate was a forced one. And so, Davey felt as comfortable around Spot in silence as he did whenever he spoke freely about the things that interested him. It helped that Spot always responded one way or another to whatever Davey says, with follow-up questions and eye contact and all the other things that signalled that he was listening, which meant a lot to Davey, especially when the usual response he’d receive would be a non-committal hum and, at best, a “that’s great, Dave”.  
As the weeks passed, Davey started seeking Spot out more and more, and the Brooklyn bridge was about as much a second home to him as the lodging house was. They’d buy food from their day’s earnings, or Davey would bring some from home, and they’d sit on the floor against some wooden crates in a hideout Spot managed to secure for himself and eat, sometimes interjecting with something that had crossed their minds.

Davey doesn’t recall exactly when it started happening, but suddenly, he couldn’t think about anything other than Spot. It was especially hard to pull his eyes away from Spot’s angular jaw, the way his hair curled, his toned muscles, and just…everything about him. Davey had come to find Spot’s thick accent and his voice, and even his scent and presence more comforting than he think he’d ever be able to admit. It slowly morphed into the realisation that maybe, just maybe, he may have feelings for Spot. After that, everything was a little different. Davey would be hyper-aware of every point at which their bodies touched, and when they sat, shoulder to shoulder against each other, it was as if his shoulder was on fire. He looked at Spot more often than before, which meant that Spot caught his gaze more often as well, and his intense gaze was overwhelming and alluring and magnetising all at once, such that Davey wanted to look away just as much as he wanted to keep looking for as long as he could. It was only when Spot raised an eyebrow that Davey finally managed to turn away.

There were moments that Davey could swear that there had been something there between them both. Moments when Davey was nearly sure that the feeling he felt was mutual, not just some imagined reciprocation that his mind conjured out of wishful thinking. Those moments remained clear in Davey’s mind, like when he and Spot had been seated a little too closely to one another, and they had looked up and made eye contact. Davey could never be absolutely certain, and he isn’t particularly risk-taking, but he’d be willing to bet money that Spot had leaned in just a little, maybe even parted his lips. But then he turned away, with his expression blanked, the way that only someone who had years to perfect it could manage.

Eventually, fall ended, which was greeted with shorter days, longer nights, and chilly winds. This resulted in most of the newsies putting on extra layers, including Spot and Davey. With his financial state, it wasn’t shocking that Spot lacked proper gloves – he later explained that the ones he’d been using finally fell apart last winter, and he never got around to replacing them. He probably would have been warm enough, but the walk to their usual secret hideout froze him a little, and he was obviously trying to heat his fingers on his neck despite declining Davey’s offer to give Spot his gloves. When they finally settled down in the hideout, Davey couldn’t think of much else to do, which was why he took off his gloves and clasped Spot’s hands within his own. They stayed like that for a little longer than Spot needed, but Davey wasn’t quite aware of it as they sat in appreciation of each other’s company. Some weeks later, by which Spot had acquired gloves, snow fell.

On their usual weekend dinner, a couple of weeks before Christmas, Spot interrupted the quiet to ask, “You don’t celebrate Christmas, right?”

“No, my family’s Jewish. We celebrate Hanukkah. What about you?”

“Nah, not really. I don’t believe too much in all that.” Spot paused to think before continuing. “If you did, what, uh… what would you want? Y’know, as a gift?”

Davey tried not to smile at Spot’s unsubtle attempt at thoughtfulness, and answered the question genuinely instead. “I don’t really know? I never really thought about it.” He took a second to stare at his hands, before he turned to meet Spot’s eyes. “What about you? Do you have something in mind?”

Spot’s gaze drifted away, and Davey got the impression that Spot was trying to avoid meeting his eyes. “I ain’t… uh, I ain’t got something in particular that I want.”

Davey would consider himself to be acceptably perceptive, but he didn’t have to be perceptive to notice that Spot wasn’t saying everything that he wanted to be. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “If it isn’t a thing, then well, what is it?”

Spot’s eyes were still elsewhere, and Davey nudged him lightly with his elbow, which finally brought Spot’s attention back to him as they locked eyes. Eyes still locked, Spot leaned in and Davey found himself breathless when Spot raised a hand to cup the side of his face, resting a thumb along his jaw. 

Spot’s voice was quiet and low when he answered, “Take a guess.”

Davey really wasn’t particularly risk-taking, but he didn’t hesitate for a moment before leaning in to meet Spot’s lips with his. The kiss was chaste, and Spot pulled away before it could go any further.

“Dave, are you sure about this?” Spot asked, understandably worried. This kind of love wasn’t received well, and while Spot was sure he could handle his own if it ever came to that, he had concerns about how the Jacobs family might respond to this when…or if they found out.

“Yes,” Davey answered. He could see that Spot had his concerns, so he took Spot’s hand in his before quietly adding, “We’ll be fine.”

Spot couldn’t help but to smile a little at Davey’s optimism. They’d handle whatever happened when it did, so for the moment, he figured that they would enjoy each other’s company, the same way they always had. This time, Spot was the one to kiss Davey, deepening the kiss quickly. They spent the rest of the night enjoying each other’s company, interjecting only what they wanted to say between heated kisses that kept them warm despite the snow.


End file.
